Maria. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
315break, your gaskins fall.

Feste. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Maria. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
320lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

[Exit]

Feste. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may
325pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'
[Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]God bless thee, lady!

Olivia. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
besides, you grow dishonest.

Feste. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
335the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
340amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
345

Malvolio. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day
with an ordinary fool that has no more brain
than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
375already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
than the fools' zanies.

Olivia. Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
380with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
385man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Feste. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
speakest well of fools!

[Re-enter MARIA]

Maria. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
390desires to speak with you.

Olivia. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
madman: fie on him!
[Exit MARIA]Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
400[Exit MALVOLIO]Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
people dislike it.

Feste. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with
405brains! for,—here he comes,—one of thy kin has a
most weak pia mater.

Feste. Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
him; and a third drowns him.

Olivia. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
425coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
drowned: go, look after him.

Feste. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
to the madman.

[Exit]

[Re-enter MALVOLIO]

Malvolio. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
435have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
lady? he's fortified against any denial.

Malvolio. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
450in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

Viola. Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,—I
pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
465for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
comptible, even to the least sinister usage.
470

Viola. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
the heart of my message.
485

Olivia. It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you
490than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if
you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

Olivia. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
with my face? You are now out of your text: but
520we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
not well done?

Viola. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave
530And leave the world no copy.

Olivia. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
inventoried, and every particle and utensil
labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
535indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
you sent hither to praise me?

Viola. I see you what you are, you are too proud;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
540My lord and master loves you: O, such love
Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
The nonpareil of beauty!

Olivia. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
550And in dimension and the shape of nature
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

Viola. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
555In your denial I would find no sense;
I would not understand it.

Viola. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
560Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
565Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me!

Olivia. Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
575I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.

Viola. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
And let your fervor, like my master's, be
580Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.

[Exit]

Olivia. 'What is your parentage?'
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
585Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
soft, soft!
Unless the master were the man. How now!
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
590Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
With an invisible and subtle stealth
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What ho, Malvolio!

Olivia. Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
600Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.